Idk if I'm just on the worst side of tiktok right now but am I the only person who thought it was pretty damn obvious that the news clippings about voldy on reg's wall were a hint towards him researching/piecing together the secret?
Like is that not what everyone else saw? Bc I'm seeing people use that to argue that he didn't change his mind at all
I think some people are just too set on him being completely evil
He's an inherently grey character yk?
He was a stupid teenage boy who had just started to grow and see the truth
and then promptly died before he managed to finish that journey (while doing something really fucking brave and risky). I thought that was the ENTIRE POINT
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We need a TD character who's like Kenny from South Park, but they don't die. They just constantly get very injured, then is perfectly fine the next episode with only them (and maybe Chris?) remembering. They get injured in even the safest of challenges. They could just need to pick berries, and they managed to fall face first into a bush full of thorns.
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On Faceless Death, From the Perspective of Someone Who Deals with Death Every Day
This is a post I’ve toyed with writing for a while, and I keep thinking about writing it every few months when a new tragedy or accident or some other event that leads to loss of life comes up, and I see the inevitable deluge of people celebrating the deaths. And these are very rarely the deaths of known actors, those whose actions, both good and bad, are public record.
These are, for lack of a better term, the unknown and faceless. The “Ten People Die in Such-and-Such a Circumstance” people. What is known about them is usually that they were in a place when an event occurred, be it a concert, a festival, a town, whatever. But there are assumptions made about them because of where they were and what they might have been doing. People claim that “everyone” doing a specific thing or being in a specific place was a member of XYZ group, and that’s why it’s fine to laugh and celebrate the deaths of these very ordinary people.
And I call them ordinary because they are. Because all death is ordinary, because everyone is equalized in that. Because these are not known actors, but those people who simply were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and their names, their faces, their stories are likely known only to those they left behind.
I am a medical examiner. Every day I go to work and I’m greeted by photos and stories of the dead. These are also often people who were in a certain place at a certain time, who have judgment passed on them. These are the woman found in a cheap motel room with a syringe floating next to her in a moldy bathtub. These are the tatted-up uncle walking his nephew home when he’s caught in a drive-by. This is the wealthy man who is bludgeoned to death while out walking on a secluded trail. These are the kids caught in cross-fire as their older siblings shoot out their disputes. These are an old woman dying alone at home and not being found for weeks because no one thought to check on her. These are young college students driving home from a party when they roll over and get ejected through a windshield. These are the rich, the poor, the addicted, the previously-sick, the expected-right-up-until-it-wasn’t. These are those who at least someone will claim weren’t “innocent” victims. These are people of unknown pasts and stories found dead far from home, whose stories and even identities may never be known. Sometimes it’s natural, sometimes accidental, sometimes they kill themselves or someone else kills them. Sometimes we just can’t tell because they’re so decomposed by the time they’re found that all we can say is that there’s no obvious trauma and no retained bullets.
And the thing that unites all these cases, from the mundane to the photos that still haunt me, is that they’ve almost all left people behind. These are the people who death truly hurts, because for the dead there is no more hurt, but for those that remain there is nothing but hurt. The woman who overdoses in the tub is found by her boyfriend. The old woman finally has a daughter who comes from hours away to crawl through a window and find her. The nephew sees his uncle gunned down. The siblings realize exactly the cost of their war when their baby siblings are bleeding out. They are the ones left behind. They are the ones who feel the guilt and the grief and the hole in the world where their loved ones used to be.
And every time I see people celebrating the death of some stranger whose name and life is unknown to them, purely because they were at a certain place at a certain time, or they are assumed to be “one of those sorts of people”, I think about these deaths: lonely or in public, in fear or shock or the simple and chill acceptance that comes with realizing they will die. I think about the conversations a medical examiner or a paramedic or a scene investigator has with those left behind. I think about these lives, each unique, intricate, and gone. I think about the tattoos that tell a story. I think about the color of clouded-over eyes. I think about the clothing they or someone else chose for them. I think about text conversations, about emails and scribbled-down notes in handwriting so bad I can only make out a few words. I think about all the things that they have done or could have done, all the paths they have walked and will never walk.
Working with death on such an intimate level is an incredibly humbling experience. It makes me realize how small we all are, and yet also how vast. How our lives and deaths spread out to touch so many others. It’s why, with very few exceptions, I view all deaths as tragedies. Yes, including the death of that nameless, faceless person you’re thinking about right now who was probably a member of some group you think deserves it. Because lives can change. Paths can change. People can change, right up until everything stops. Death is the one thing that guarantees a person will never change. Maybe you think that because they might have been a part of a certain group, they are purely and simply Bad People, or that they must have done terrible things and their death is therefore somehow a good thing. In your hypothetical world where this very real death can be used for moral clout and grandstanding.
But you don’t know who they were. You don’t know what they did or who they left behind. Death is never clean. It is a fracture that goes through so many lives. There are so few people in the world whose loss is a genuine net good. Of course they exist, but I find that they are rare. And I certainly can never assume that someone I don’t know, who was simply in a place at a time and may or may not be “one of those people”, whichever people are being discussed, would be so bad that their death should be celebrated, and that the pain of those left behind should, in turn, also be celebrated. I think the world has more than enough casual cruelty without adding to it in that way.
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Hey FYI this OceanGate situation is currently looking SO fucking bleak.
I highly recommend you filter or blacklist “oceangate” if you’re sensitive any kind of claustrophobia, fear of drowning, fear of being alone or failed rescues, or irl death until (hopefully) somebody pulls off a miracle rescue.
I don’t care how rich or stupid the tourists were, what they must be going through… that’s fucked up.
I can already expect a bunch of folks being super callous about this, fuck. I almost was, when I thought it was just a joke, but NOPE. Totally real. Still. Fuck. And the pilot too. FUCK.
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welp.
i just had a fuckin' dark idea.
pretty sure the reason marie specifically was kept alive might be because vicky plans to use her as a patsy.
the aim is u.s. presidency right?
but if neuman is the vp, prez either has to die or step down for her to be prez. probably ain't gonna do that?? just my two cents. she could pop his head. but there are a number of people who know her powers.
sure, there are other ways to do it, but if marie already has a bad rep and they know what her powers are and how they work--
holy FUCK, they may just be keeping her around to pin all the head popping kills on her. and marie would have no fucking clue or defense. she'd be their perfect 'fall guy'. always have a back up, right?
ugh...
excuse me. whiplash and flashes back to stormfront's:
"you're gonna be a big help to me"
and annie's:
"that means she has some sort of fucked up plan for me"
ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
morbidity, my mistress, you are unkind and unwell... fuck it, you're cruel and heartless bitch. but as is vought's way of making patsies of children, this is not outside the realm of dark possibility...
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